


Homecoming

by thesmallchameleon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Feelings Jams, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV Second Person, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, School Dances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 23:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesmallchameleon/pseuds/thesmallchameleon
Summary: John never lets you forget that he's as straight as they get, but after you go to homecoming with him, you can't help but feel that something has changed. He's clinging to you at every chance he gets, and doesn't seem to realize just what that's doing to you.Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you should probably talk about your feelings.





	Homecoming

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you're beat.

The door barely shuts behind you before you slouch against it, once immaculately styled bangs falling in a tuft in front of your eyes. You heave a sigh and run your hand through your hair, loosening your tie with the other.

"Congratulations."

You jump, suddenly alert, and your hands automatically go to the empty spot on your hip. Your eyes lock onto your brother, who is leaning against the wall to your right. The corner of his mouth twitches downward a fraction of a millimeter. After a moment you relax, pretending not to notice. Neither of you acknowledge this.

You push yourself away from the door and walk past him. You feel his eyes tracking the back of your head behind his shades.

"Why are you still up?" you ask as you make your way to the kitchen. He follows.

"Was working on a project," he says, which, if you know him as well as you like to think you do, is essentially code for not being able to sleep. You nod.

You open the fridge and stare into it for several seconds, trying to remember why you came into the kitchen in the first place, before grabbing a bottle of A.J. and wondering why the answer wasn't obvious to you. You crack the bottle open with a satisfying pop and chug half of it in one go. When you come up for air you realize Dirk is still standing in the middle of the kitchen looking as awkward as an undeniably cool guy can be.

"What's up?" you ask, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand.

He doesn't say anything, which either means he has nothing to say (unlikely) or that he has too much to say and is thinking (much more likely and significantly less desirable at this time of night). But hey, if your brother wants to have an impromptu feelings jam at one in the morning, who are you to say otherwise. You let him think as he follows you to the living room. He opens his mouth as you collapse onto one side of the couch, undoing your tie entirely and letting it hang around your neck. You pop open the top two buttons of your shirt for good measure.

"I'm proud of you," he says finally, in a stilted voice. You freeze and look up at him. His face is as expressionless as ever, but you can tell that there is more to... whatever this is.

He sits on the other side of the couch and you swing your legs onto the cushions to face him. You take a swig of juice.

"Okay," you say, when he doesn't continue. "Good to know, thanks man."

He leans against the armrest. When he opens his mouth again the river starts flowing.

"Look, I know how hard it can be to tell people about your feelings and stuff, and I know this has been something you've been trying to keep private for a very long time, so I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you for speaking up and congratulate you on it going well."

He stands suddenly and starts to leave. You stare at the back of his head.

"What in God's dick are you talking about?"

He stops and turns slowly.

"Jake texted me. Jade saw you and John at the dance and it got around pretty quickly."

You say nothing for almost a minute.

"What got around pretty quickly?"

He shifts slightly from one foot to the other.

"You know. How you finally got through that thick skull of his. You finally put the reins on the horse and rode that motherfucker to town."

You stare at him.

"Are you sticking with..."

"I'm sticking with that analogy."

Dirk crosses his arms, face set unapologetically.

"Okay, cool. I'm glad you're secure in your choice of figurative language but that doesn't change the fact that I honestly have zero idea of what you could possibly be referring to."

Dirk looks at you for a moment and you can tell he's trying to figure out if you're telling the truth or not. Apparently he can read you about as well as you can read him. You make the mistake of taking another long gulp of apple juice.

"Jake told me you and John are finally dating."

You choke, coughing into your elbow. The bottle in your hand is suddenly gone and on the coffee table in front of you and you try not to bristle at Dirk's flash stepping. He knows it makes you mildly uncomfortable and generally avoids doing it around the house, but even the coolest guy is going to slip up sometimes. You try to play your coughing off as an offhanded laugh.

"Yeah right. Egbert is as straight as an interstate highway in the middle of North Dakota. Little Timmy's in the back seat all 'Are we there yet?' No, shut your mouth you little snot nosed fucker, it's six million more miles to grandma's house and we're not turning until we get there. She's making us an apple pie so buckle up bitch."

"So you're not dating then," Dirk says, having filtered the key point out of the ocean of bs you just spewed.

"Pretty much," you say. "Why did Jade think we were?"

Dirk scratches his cheek slowly. Stubble is starting to grow. Knowing him it won't be there long.

"Jake didn't say."

"Huh." You pick up your apple juice again, somewhat having lost the thirst you had only moments ago. You stare at the inch or so of apple juice left in the bottle and swirl it around a bit.

If you think about it, it kind of makes sense actually. Moments from tonight flash through your brain: Egbert taking your hand to lead you through the crowd; an arm lingering around your shoulders as you talked with friends; his face just a little too close to yours as you spoke and danced. You're actually not surprised Jade thought you were dating. You would have thought you were dating too if you didn't know any better.

"You never denied the part about you having a thing for Egbert ass." You are suddenly aware of the fact that Dirk is still in the room.

You snort.

"Yeah sure. Maybe when we were thirteen."

Dirk frowns ever so slightly. You catch it when you glance at him quickly before returning your attention to swirling your apple juice around.

"But not now," he says. You say nothing and stare at the golden ichor spinning in it's crystalline bottle. You stop your hand and watch the little whirlpool twirl before slowly flattening into a still lake. You shrug.

Dirk exhales softly and his rough hand comes down to clap you gently on the shoulder.

"I'm going back to work. Get some sleep. Let me know if you need anything."

You nod, thoughts still swirling as he leaves the room. After a moment you down the last gulp of juice and get up to go to bed.

***

On Monday, John puts his arm around your shoulders as you eat lunch, laughing slightly too loudly at something Jade said. You stiffen. This isn't close to the first time he's done this, but you are suddenly aware of how this must make you look. If you seem uncomfortable, John doesn't notice, but your sister gives you a knowing look from across the table. You ignore her and stuff some fries into your mouth, trying to force yourself to relax.

"Okay, what do you think Dave?" John asks, turning his attention towards you.

"Missed the question." You pull a French fry in half.

"Who's more attractive: Liv Tyler or Ben Affleck?"

Jade slams her hands on the table, causing everyone's food to jump. Luckily no one sees you wince.

"That is totally not the question you asked me! You said who I would date!"

John rolls his eyes.

"Come on. Does it really matter?"

"Yes!" Jade throws her arms up.

"I have to side with Jade on this one. There's a monumental difference," you say. "Ben is objectively more attractive (if you're talking Armageddon which I assume you are. I have not seen what his face looks like since but I would guess the last however many years have not been good to him) but Liv would be a better girlfriend."

Jade rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"Oh come on you would totally suck Ben Affleck's dick." She crosses her arms sitting back in her seat.

"But would he suck mine?" you say, pointing a ketchup coated fry at her.

As she mulls this over, John's arm drops from around your shoulders. Figures. It's only when dicks get involved that he starts getting squeamish.

"I guess not..." Jade says, pouting.

"Gotta think about these things both ways," you say tapping your temple and ignoring the fact that you almost certainly just got ketchup in your hair.

Rose is looking at you; you can feel it. You avoid her eyes.

"I can't help but notice that nobody has asked for my input," she says in the articulate way she says everything.

"Yeah well you're biased," John says.

She raises one neat eyebrow, clasping her hands delicately under her chin.

"And you're not?" she says, smirking slightly.

John splutters, torn between defending his argument or his status as the only straight person in your little crew.

"I am capable of putting aside my preferences in order to make an objective decision," he says finally, mimicking Rose's poise.

"So what I'm hearing is you'd totally fuck Ben Affleck," Jade says.

A pained expression crosses John's face. Luckily for him, the bell rings at that moment and he is saved from answering by the sudden bustle of the cafeteria.

You feel slightly ill as you throw out your trash, but you can't quite place why.

***

You're not sure if he's actually doing it more or if you are just suddenly hyper aware of how John acts towards you. Given Jade's excessive winking and Rose's increasing number of pointed looks, you don't think you're the only one who notices.

He leans in too close when he offers help you didn't ask for but probably needed on your biology homework. He grabs your hand when the hallway is crowded even though you move as fast, if not faster than he does through the thrall. His hand lingers on your back for no apparent reason when you are hanging out with Jade and Rose.

Speaking of, you've also started to notice he doesn't do these things to them. Jade is arguably more tactile than John, and often slings her arm around her cousin's neck or tackles him in the halls. And yet he rarely does the same. Rose is much more reserved physically and John tends to give her a respectful distance. It should be odd that he gives you more attention than the girl he claims to like. 

***

_"You're coming to homecoming, right?"_

_You look up at John and regard him with mild surprise. He's rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly._

_"Wasn't planning on it," you say. "Why?"_

_He sighs and props his chin up on his hands, elbows leaning against his desk. "_

_I, uh, asked Rose to go with me and she turned me down. But I already bought my ticket."_

_"Seriously? You know she's not interested. What the fuck."_

_He doesn't meet your eyes._

_"Yeah but... It's the only thing that makes sense. I thought maybe since it was homecoming and all..."_

_You stare at him blankly, not letting the annoyance that is steadily building up show. He glances at you briefly and looks away._

_"Dude. She's gay."_

_He squirms slightly._

_"I know," he says. "I just thought... Whatever it's dumb."_

_You force yourself not to agree with him. At least not out loud._

_"Point being I've already paid for a ticket and I don't want to waste it. So will you come?"_

_"Eh, dances aren't really my thing." They're really not. The loud, dark, crowded atmosphere punctured with bright flashing lights is kind of a recipe for disaster with you. You'd rather John not know this. "They're pretty lame, I mean. It's a bunch of horny teenagers in a dark room trying to grind on each other until a parent chaperone chews them out."_

_John heaves a deep sigh, leaning heavily on his arm. You know it's going to be harder to turn him down than you would like._

_"Isn't Jade going anyway? You can just hang out with her."_

_He sighs again, long enough that you know it's entirely for dramatic effect._

_"Yeah but it would be more fun if you were there," he whines. "Come on, please."_

_You exhale in a way that almost counts as a huff and turn towards the front of the class._

_"Fine," you say eventually, "but you owe me. That's at least three hours of mixing and making shitty comics down the drain."_

_John grins._

_***_

The first time he put his arm around you at the dance, you didn't think much of it. But then he stayed like that for at least fifteen minutes. And then he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd to the dance floor. And then he started doing some goofy ass jig and you committed to an ironically uncommitted step-together. And then you caught him staring at you while you were waiting in line for punch. And then when the noise and lights became too much for you and you had to hide in the bathroom to calm the fuck down, he was wandering the patio looking for you. And when you found him again he ran up to you and hugged you dramatically. And then when he got bored you left together and went to his house to play shitty MMORPGs and eat junk food and he sat with his leg pressed against yours even though there was a couch full of space on either side of you.

And yeah, at the time you thought it was all for shits and giggles: Straight guy goes on a date with gay (or bi in your case) bro because the girl he likes turns him down. Hilarious. But he's still acting like your boyfriend. As in currently. He is actually nuzzling your shoulder with his face as you casually eat soggy grilled cheese that was probably frozen at some point.

"Get a room!" some lanky asshole shouts as he passes your table. His shorter friend elbows him in the gut and admonishes him, but the damage is done. Your entire table has frozen.

All eyes fall to John as he slowly puts distance between you. You force yourself to continue eating and pretend like everything is normal.

John laughs. You grit your teeth but keep your face blank.

"Why are you guys acting so serious?" he says. "That guy's in my bio class. He's just a jerk."

None of you say anything. Rose resumes eating and after a moment Jade does too. John stares at each of you in turn, bemused.

"Okay, come on. What's wrong?" Jade's nose twitches and you can tell that she's thinking.

"John I don't think that guy is the only one who's getting the wrong idea," she says slowly.

John stares at her for a moment and then snorts.

"So?" he says. "I'm not gonna shy away from my best bro just because he's gay. I don't care if people think I'm gay because I hang out with you guys."

You're suddenly standing. You can feel your hands shaking. You grab your backpack with one and your half-finished lunch in the other, tossing it in the garbage as you exit the cafeteria as calmly as you can manage.

By the time you get to your locker you are seething. It takes you four tries to unlock it thanks to your shaking hands. When you finally get it open, you dig a textbook out of your bag and shove it in. You know you need something for next period, but you are too distracted to figure out what. You stare into your locker for several minutes.

"Dave!" John's voice echoes slightly in the empty hallway. Your jaw clenches. His footsteps approach quickly, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.

"What was that all about?" he asks. "Are you mad about Sollux? Like I said he's just some jerk from bio, he's always saying dumb things like that."

You say nothing, your fingers grip the door to your locker tightly.

"Come on, what's wrong?"

You refuse to turn around.

"Nothing," you say, managing from a lifetime of practice to keep your voice cool.

"Don't lie to me," he says offhandedly. You wince. "What's up?"

You turn quickly, slamming your locker and figuring that whatever you needed for whatever your next class is can't be that important.

"Do you want to go out with me?" you ask suddenly. John's eyebrows raise in surprise. You're honestly surprised at yourself as well.

"Haha very funny, Dave," he says after a moment, hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm serious," you say, expression as blank as always.

"Do you or do you not want to go out with me?"

He freezes and lowers his hand.

"Dave, I'm not gay. You know that," he says, not meeting your eyes.

You can't help but laugh spitefully under your breath.

"Just like you know Rose is," you mutter. Unsurprisingly he hears this. His face screws up.

"What's your problem?" he asks. "If it's that troll from earlier..."

You slam your fist against the wall of lockers, causing John to jump and your own skin to prickle.

"It's not him," you say as calmly as you can manage. Your voice comes out a little tight. John doesn't say anything. His eyes are wide, almost fearful. You have to get out of here.

"Look I'm fine. Forget I said anything."

You sling your backpack over your shoulder and walk past him.

"Wait."

He grabs your wrist.

***

_Your back hits the wall, hard._

_"What did you say to me?" he asks, his voice as cool as ever._

_"Nothing," you say, trying your best to ignore the throbbing of your skull and keep your face blank. Cool guys don't show pain after all._

_His arm presses harder against your chest. You keep your breathing as steady as you can despite the pressure._

_"Now you're lying to me. What did you say?" he repeats, slower._

_You say nothing, knowing that either way it won't change anything. Neither of you move for several moments. He makes a noise between a grunt and a laugh and takes a step back, removing his arm from your chest._

_"Roof. Ten minutes," he says. And then he's gone. You bring your hand to your chest and regard the empty spot he only just occupied with dead eyes._

__***_ _

You stare at John with dead eyes.

"Dave?" he stumbles over your name, eyes wide and fearful. Your arm is across his collar bone, pushing him against the wall of lockers.

Your mouth goes dry.

You take a step back. Then another. You put your hands up defensively in front of you.

"I... I…" you stammer.

John lays his hand on the base of his neck, stunned.

"I'm sorry," you finally choke out. And then you're running down the hall as fast as your legs can take you. Within moments you find yourself out of the building, over the fence, and leaning over a trashcan. Dirk says nothing when you come home two hours early.

You're lying on your stomach with your face in your arms as you have been for the past several hours, when there's a decisive knock on your door. You raise your head blearily and push your shades up to rub where they have cut into your nose. Dirk doesn't usually knock. In fact he's rarely within a five foot radius of your door. Generally he just texts you from the other room if he needs to get your attention.

"Dave, may I come in?" a slightly muffled voice asks. It's Rose.

You sit up slowly, dragging your pillow into your lap. You stare at the doorknob, but it doesn't turn on it's own.

"Dave," she says again, "are you awake?"

You don't move. After a prolonged silence, soft footsteps pad down the hall away from your door. You find yourself groggily on your feet, still hugging your pillow to your chest, and opening the door. It swings open with a creak. The footsteps stop and you don't even check to see if she's coming back, instead turning and going to sit on your bed.

After a moment, Rose cautiously pushes the door. You don't meet her eyes, but you can tell she's looking at your wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair. If you weren't still wearing your shades, she would be able to see that your eyes were redder than usual.

She goes to close the door, but pauses and looks at you as if asking for permission. You nod slightly and she shuts it all the way. The bed sinks slightly as she sits down next to you.

You sit in silence for a few moments before she turns to you and reaches slowly for your shades, giving you plenty of time to react. You stiffen slightly but let her pull them slowly away from your face, folding them and carefully placing them on your night stand.

You lean your arms on your knees and look away so that she can't see your face. She doesn't seem to mind.

"John is confused," she says eventually.

You wait for her to say more, but nothing comes. You glance at her, but she's respectfully not meeting your eyes. You look away again.

"Just confused?" you ask, voice coming out thin. "Not mad? Scared?"

She shakes her head.

"Mad? No. Scared? A bit." Your throat tightens. "But more for you rather than of you."

You release the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and run a hand through your hair.

"I didn't mean to..."

"I know."

You lean slightly towards Rose, then stop.

"Can I..."

She nods and you lay your head in her lap. Her fingers comb carefully through your hair.

"Did I hurt him?" you ask.

"Not a scratch," Rose says. "He was a little shaken up, that's all."

You close your eyes and let the feeling of Rose's fingers carding through your hair lull you into a semi-conscious state.

"John thinks you are either in love with him or that you hate him," she says eventually.

You rub the bridge of your nose, feeling the permanent indent where your shades always sit. "I don't hate him," you say, distressed that he would think that.

Rose pauses.

"Then are you in love with him?" she asks.

You think about the way John acts around you: the way he looks out for you and gives you attention and treats you like something special. You think about his unapologetic attitude towards you at the dance, the way he didn't care if people saw you being affectionate together. And you think about how after the dance, he still showed the same affection, even when there wasn't an audience.

But then you think about John. You think about his dorky attitude and goofy antics. You think about the way he cracks jokes about things you like and can't ever tell the difference between what you're doing to be ironic and what you're genuinely proud of. You think about the way that he pokes at your insecurities and doesn't even think to consider the way that makes you feel. You think about the fact that he never seems to listen.

"Dave?"

"No," you say. "I'm not."

She hums and resumes playing with your hair. You let yourself relax again.

"You might want to tell him that."

***

You ring the doorbell before you can talk yourself out of it. With Egbert's big-ass house, it doesn't surprise you that it takes him a while to get to the door.

"Dave," he says. The expression on his face is equal parts relieved and nervous.

"Hey." You stick your hands in your pockets and scuff the ground with your sneaker. "I think we need to talk."

***

_"You could come stay with Mom and I," she suggests, not for the first time._

_You shake your head as best as you can with the side of your face still smushed against her lap._

_"The social worker still stops by sometimes," you say. "And. I don't want to leave Dirk by himself."_

_You don't mention the part about their house being so big and eerily quiet that you feel like you could drown in it. At least around here there's always some steady noise: Music playing, the shower running, Dirk working in the other room... When complete silence falls you find yourself waiting for it to shatter, abruptly and painfully. You don't know how long you would last in a house like Rose's._

_"Dirk is an adult," Rose reminds you. "You don't have to take care of him."_

_"I know," you say. But that's a lie. You do have to take care of him. He may technically be an adult but you'd put him in the barely functioning classification. You force him to go to bed when he's been awake for days and he makes sure you don't flip out when there's a power outage. It's a two way street._

_And once you're done with school, you'll get a job and start paying him back for real, for everything he's done for you._

_***_

"Dirk's not my bro," you blurt out, hands clasped, foot tapping as you sit on the very edge of Egbert's bed.

The confusion on his face would be priceless any other day.

"What?"

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair. You open your mouth to continue on that thread but find yourself coming at it from a slightly different angle.

"You remember back when I lived in Texas and we would talk online, I would always go on and on about my bro? With the swords and the puppets and all the weird ironic mind games and shit. And then I moved out here with Dirk and you met him and thought I was lying about all that stuff."

John nods, obviously somewhat lost but doing his best to hang on to your every word.

"I wasn't lying," you say. "Bro really did do all of that stuff. It's just that, Dirk's not my bro."

John's eyebrows furrow more intensely if that's even possible. You don't think what you're saying is all that complicated in itself, but hey this is John you're talking to.

"But you guys look so much alike," he says.

You give him a blank look, which in all honesty isn't much different from the expression you've had on your face throughout the entire conversation, so you're not surprised when he doesn't react at all to it.

"Dirk is my brother," you clarify. "Bro was... Not. I thought he was for most of my life. But I guess he's actually my dad or something. Which is still weird to think about."

John looks like he's trying to figure out how to solve world hunger.

"So you used to live with your dad who you thought was your brother and now you live with Dirk who is your actual brother," he finally assesses.

You nod and he relaxes a little. There is still a trace of confusion in his face when he says "Okay. What does this have to do with... anything?"

You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt for a moment, stalling.

"My... the guy I lived with, before Dirk..." You find yourself reaching to the back of your neck and pulling your t-shirt over your head. John doesn't gasp, but his eyes widen like camera lenses as they twitch back and forth, taking in every milk-white scar littering your chest and arms.

"He, uh, wasn't a very good guardian," you say.

***

_You can feel the entire atmosphere pressing down on you with every breath. The sun beats down on your fair skin and you know that you're going to start burning soon, if you haven't already, but you can't help but feel that that issue is somewhat irrelevant in your given situation._

_You can't stand._

_You've tried, twice now, to muster every bit of grit and pain tolerance you have to force yourself through the torturous sensation in your ribs and left ankle, and make it to your feet so that you can at least stumble down the stairs and make it to your bed. And twice, you've blacked out from the pain._

_So you're stuck. Lying here on the roof. Concrete getting hotter with every minute in the blistering sun. Blood on your face and hands long dried and flaking every time you twitch to make sure your limbs are still connected to your brain. And a column of Dave-shaped air, extending from your battered body to the edges of earth's atmosphere, pressing down on every sore bone and joint and muscle and patch of skin._

_It isn't until the sun has disappeared behind the city skyline and the bugs have come out, nipping at your burned skin in the mercifully cool air, that you try to stand again. You don't black out and manage to limp back towards the stairwell._

_It's going to be a long couple of weeks._

_***_

You think you might have broken John. He sits there, silent, with eyes the size of freshly spun records, and just listens as you talk. You know you ramble a lot, and John generally lets you, but he usually jumps in to crack a joke or tease you whenever he sees fit. But now he's absolutely speechless. It's honestly kind of freaking you out.

"Dude?" you say after a while. "You alright?"

He blinks, once, twice, then shakes his head a little as if to clear it.

"No, yes. I'm fine," he says, clearly not. "Are you? Okay, I mean."

You play with the shirt in your hands, which you kind of want to put back on, but don't want to make it a thing so you'll just keep moving it around in your hands until it doesn't seem like it would be awkward.

"No," you say honestly. "Not always. But it's getting better every day I'm not in that apartment."

John nods and his eyes flicker to the little white lines cast across your skin. You decide to put your shirt back on, awkward timing be damned, immediately feeling less exposed on so many levels as your scars are covered up by long sleeves.

"So uh, how did you get out then?" John asks.

"Dirk adopted me," you say, as if it were simple.

***

_You sit at your computer, staring blankly at the screen. You read the words of the email in front of you over and over again, barely believing it, if you do at all._

Dave,

Hey. My name is Dirk Strider. I'm 19 years old and live in Washington state. I know this is coming out of nowhere, but I think I might be your brother...

_This Dirk guy goes on to explain that your friend Rose is his stepsister and she recently told him about you because according to her, you have a lot in common, including a last name._

I asked my stepmom about it and she asked to see a picture of you. When Rose showed her one of the pictures you've sent her, she started crying. You look exactly like my dad, who ran away with his and my stepmom's kid a couple months after he was born.

I think the kid is you.

_You hear the door to the apartment open and then slam shut. You make yourself absolutely still and listen for the sounds of your bro's footfalls. He's being loud and careless. Which means he's tired. And potentially angry. He won't go out of his way to pull a sneak attack on you, but if you get in his way, you could end up bruised regardless._

I'd like to talk to you directly, especially about the man you live with. Rose says he's your brother, but I can't help but wonder if he's your... our father. If you want to talk, my chumhandle is timaeusTestified.

Sincerely,

Dirk Strider

_You listen as Bro goes into the kitchen, then back into the living room and starts playing some ironically terrible video game._

_You open up pesterchum and ignore the trembling in your fingers as you type in Dirk's chumhandle. Cool dudes don't tremble. You're just... oscillating. In a cool way._

hey _you type._ its dave

***

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for flipping out on you earlier," you tell John. "And explain why and all that shit. And I guess apologize for not telling you about all of this sooner. Basically just lay out all my guts and dish out some real gourmet honesty and remorse. Bonne a petit, have a little humility on the house. We're serving this shit hot and fresh so eat up."

"Dave," John interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut. He gives you a little goofy smile. "It's fine."

You twitch slightly.

"You sure?" you say nervously. "Because I swear I didn't mean to go at you like that. I just have these instincts I can't shake and when shit like that happens I go back to that apartment and I don't know what's going on. And I don't want you to think I'm going to just attack at any moment or something because I know what it's like to be scared of someone and I don't think I could live with myself if you were scared of me so--"

"Dave." You stop and look up at John. His expression is suddenly more serious than you think you've ever seen him. "You're not him."

You stare at him for several seconds, at the resolve in his eyes and jaw. He spoke with such confidence that you have a hard time not believing it. After a moment, you nod.

***

_The waiting is the worst part. Waiting for Rose's mom (your mom, you force yourself to think) and Dirk to decide what the best course of action is. Waiting as your mom tries to give up her alcoholism so that a social worker could even consider her as fit for adoption. Waiting for Dirk to turn 21 so that he can legally adopt you when it's clear that that's going to happen much sooner than Ms. Lalonde ever beats her addiction._

_Every day that you're aware that there's another option, every day that you know you could be somewhere other than here, you realize just a little bit more how much you want to be anywhere else. Somewhere where you don't have to squirrel food away in your closet if you want to even consider having something to eat. Somewhere where you don't have to put your guard up the instant the front door slams shut. Somewhere. Anywhere._

_And each day starts to feel longer and longer. And you start to think about just up and leaving on your own. Hitching rides, stealing bus fare. Doing whatever you have to do to make it to Washington and dealing with the consequences when you get there. You can't imagine your bro caring enough to look for you anyway. You start to research bus routes until you have a lapse in judgment and tell Rose about your plans. She convinces you to wait (somehow) and then you're back to square one._

_Waiting. Waiting. Always eternally waiting. And then suddenly Dirk is old enough and he's been deemed a safe guardian through whatever laws or processes you don't entirely understand and he and Ms. Lalonde are on their way to Texas and child services are coming this morning to take one look around your weapon-ridden apartment and scar-ridden body and decide that you'd be much better off with your biological brother as soon as you take that DNA test and confirm it._

_And suddenly._

_It's too soon._

_You're standing in the middle of your room. Everything you own is stashed in trash bags that you bought the last time your bro threw a twenty at you and told you to go get groceries._

_You've spent your entire life in this apartment. Your bro might not be the gentlest, or sanest person who could be in charge of a kid, but he's the only thing you've ever known. There won't be any more late nights where you end up playing shitty games together in chill silence. There won't be any more dinners of Chinese takeout in front of some awful reality TV show. There won't be anymore slips of moments, when you've knocked him back, just a step or so up on the roof, and he tips his chin back just a touch and you get the distant feeling that maybe, just maybe he's proud of you._

_After today, you might not see him ever again._

_You stand in the center of your bedroom, that soon isn't going to be your bedroom._

_Cool guys don't cry._

_You start to doubt how cool you've actually ever been._

***

John's never been one for subtlety, and you can tell by the way he keeps shooting you these little sidelong glances that he thinks are a lot less noticeable than they are that there's something he wants to say. You're pretty sure you know what he's so worked up about, but you don't particularly feel like talking about it yourself and would rather not bring it up.

Even so, the silence is starting to get to you.

"Come on man," you say. "Whatever it is--"

"Did you mean it?" He cuts you off. He looks at you for a moment before facing forward and fidgeting with his hands. "When you asked me… when you asked me out earlier."

He looks exceedingly uncomfortable, and you can't help the guilt that floods through you.

You sigh.

"Look, I really am sorry about all of that," you say. "I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did. It's not you're fault you're so… John."

He gives you a confused look like he's not sure if he's supposed to be offended or not.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You sigh.

"Ever since homecoming, you've been really touchy-feely with me. To anyone else it looks like we're dating." You stop there because honestly trying to figure out how to say what you're trying to say is like raging boner levels of hard.

"I already told you," he says with a nervous laugh. "I don't care if people think I'm gay just because you're gay."

"Except you do," you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And I'm not gay anyway. I like girls too. You know that."

"Bi, right," he says somewhat flippantly. You shoot him a somewhat exasperated look behind your shades. He doesn't catch it. You can't imagine why not.

"Point being," (you have to pick your battles sometimes) "you've been all up in my jam lately and it's a little weird. You're acting like my boyfriend or something, but whether you'd like to admit it or not, the idea of someone like me or someone like you having a boyfriend still makes you a little uncomfortable. So I'm caught in this weird place where I'm not sure what I'm feeling and I'm not sure what you're feeling and I can't figure out if you have a thing for me or--"

"Woah, woah, woah," he says, his voice rises a couple of octaves in pitch. "If _I_ have a thing for _you_?"

"I know you don't," you say quickly.

"I know you're super straight. It's just… confusing."

"Dave, if I was making you uncomfortable, you should have just told me," he says, giving you a sad look.

"I know," you say. There's a pause where neither of you say anything. You break it. "But maybe, also, you could have tried a little harder to notice."

He looks thoughtful.

"Yeah," he says. "I could have. I'm sorry."

You look away quickly.

"Me too."

Silence falls and maybe it's not the most comfortable but it's the closest you've managed in a while, at least through the entirety of the afternoon.

"Why did you ask me out though?" he says suddenly.

You sort of laugh.

"I wasn't trying to ask you out," you explain. "I was trying to ask if that's what you wanted."

When you look at him, he's kind of mushing his cheek with his knuckles, the way he does on the rare occasion that his filter kicks in and he's considering whether or not to say something. You let him figure himself out.

"So you don't like me," he clarifies. You sigh, a little disappointed that you have to go down this road again.

***

_"I don't know what to tell you. If you have a problem with it..."_

_"No. No of course not," he says, waving his hands to emphasize just how cool he is with your bisexuality. The concerned wrinkles in his forehead tell you otherwise. "There's no problem."_

_"Good," you say with finality._

_It's moments like this that you appreciate your ability to school your face into stoicism, even if it comes at the cost of "emotional constipation" in Rose's words. To him you must seem like you barely care that he stumbled across some personal texts between you and Rose when he was borrowing your phone. You probably don't look like your stomach is doing this sweet trick where it tries to digest itself from the inside out. You probably don't look like you're remembering every joke the two of you have ever cracked about something being "gay." You probably don't look like you're ready to split and run the way you did when you forgot to clear your browser history and bro found that you had been searching LGBT forums in the last weeks before Dirk and Ms. Lalonde metaphorically scooped you out of your old life and plopped you into a new one._

_"But you don't..." he starts. "I mean you never looked... at me... like..."_

_You snort and try to forget the adoration you felt for the goofy kid you met over the internet only a year ago._

_"Of course not, dude."_

_***_

"Honestly," you say, "at one point I think I did."

You don't mean to let those words sit without clarification, but you do for a moment, noting the absolute silence. You don't look at John just yet.

"Before we met in person, I think I might have been a little bit love with you." You didn't mean to speak so candidly, but now that you've started you don't think you can stop. "But then I moved here and suddenly you were a real person and not just words on a screen that I could fill in blanks for and I realized there was no chance. And then I started having feelings for Jade and even though we broke up after what, three weeks? I was basically totally over you. And that's how it has been until homecoming when you--"

You cut yourself off. Shit. Sometimes you just start rambling and there's nothing you can do to stop the Dave train from pulling into emotional honesty station. Your filter is like a bad digestive system with only two settings, neither of which is a pleasant time.

John's eyebrows have risen to dangerous altitudes, but it doesn't look like you've broken him or anything. You sigh. Might as well finish what you were saying.

"You started acting like a boyfriend." You wring your hands. "Or, what I'd like having a boyfriend to be like. So I started thinking that maybe I liked you again. But the thing is, I've thought about it, and I don't. I just... I liked the way you were treating me. Not... you."

You glance at him again and he doesn't look like he's about to split, but he does wince. You guess that could have come off as a little harsh.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," you say. "You're my best friend and all that, but. Yeah."

You fidget a bit without meeting his eyes. You only look up at him when his hand lands on your shoulder.

"Thanks for telling me all of that," he says with surprising grace. For a moment, he looks just like his dad. "I know I can be kind of dense. I'm sorry I didn't notice that you were going through all of this."

You nod, unsure of what else to say.

***

While you're walking home, you have a moment of regret. An empty sinking feeling that you shouldn't have told John all of the things that you told him. That you should have kept it all to yourself and tried to keep living a normal life where dads don't pretend to be brothers who try to train you with swords for the apocalypse, or where kids don't fall in love with their straight internet friends and fall out of love later when they start living in the same neighborhood.

But at the same time, you feel lighter. Like the atmosphere above you isn't as dense as you once thought it was. You remember watching crows outside of your window during the summer back in Texas and wishing in a corny way that you could become one of them, able to fly around wherever they wanted, not trapped in a hot, sticky room with the constant hum of floor fans that never seemed to do much of anything in the cooling you down department. You pass a crow picking at something on the sidewalk, and it seems to look up at you as you pass. You give it a little nod, and then, stopping for a moment, a slight smile. You watch as the crow flies away.

Yeah. You feel a bit like that.

***

Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you're thinking.

Your best friend just left your house after a surprisingly deep and revealing feelings jam, and you're lying on your bed, not sure how you feel about some things. The more you think about it, the less surprised you feel.

You know you're a little slow to the punch sometimes, but even you had figured out that there was something disturbing in Dave's past that he didn't talk about. You'd noticed that he avoided loud situations; you always made an effort to help him get through crowds as those seemed to make him uncomfortable. And you'd seen Jade or Rose sitting with him on more than one occasion, taking his hand and saying things in soft voices you couldn't make out. You had always looked away, pretending that you didn't see what he clearly didn't want you to, and made any number of excuses to yourself that fell in line with the ones he gave you.

You guess what disturbs you the most (besides the image of a bleeding twelve-year-old Dave lying on the roof of an apartment building, left to piece himself back together by the man who marred his body with slashes and scars) is the fact that you knew about it while it was happening. Ever since you met Dave he was going on about how cool his "bro" was, how he taught him how to sword fight and how he was always pulling these ironic gags that seem so much more disturbing with a second glance. You even made jokes about how his "bro" always beat him.

You sit up quickly, suddenly angry at a past you can't change. After a moment, you lay back down on the bed. Just as you've noticed that Dave was never as all right as he pretended to be, you've also noticed that over the past few years, he's been getting more and more all right. The fact that he told you about it all today... You can't imagine him being half as honest only a year ago, much less when you first met. After all, he only came out to you because you were snooping through his phone.

Speaking of...

You put your hands over your face, thinking over what Dave told you, and again, you can't convince yourself that you are all that surprised. Not to groom your ego or anything, but you had a feeling Dave had a thing for you back when you were preteens, around the same time you started assuming you would one day marry Rose. You ignored it the same way you ignored Rose's subtle hints about finding Sally Bishop more attractive than Cameron Poe when you finally coerced her into watching Con-Air with you on your fourteenth birthday.

But even so you sort of knew. Whereas for the past couple of months you have been totally blind. You had no idea that you were confusing him. It's not like you weren't aware that other people weren't confused, but you figured that you and Dave were... You figured...

You frown and uncover your face, staring at the ceiling.

"Huh," you say out loud. Honestly you're not really sure what you were thinking every time you slung your arm around him in the hall, or pulled him in for a hug with no warning. You were more just... acting. Doing what felt right and comfortable.

It makes you sad that he didn't feel the same way.

You sit up more slowly this time, thinking about what he told you. That he liked the way you treated him. But that he didn't like you. You frown, trying to ignore the curl of disappointment in your stomach. But, no. You've ignored too many things for too long.

You're... sad.

You're sad that Dave doesn't like you that way, and you don't think it's just your pride that's making you feel like this. Because you're remembering what he said about wanting you once-upon-a-time when you were both 13, before you pushed him away with jokes about who he was because you didn't even know who he was. You didn't even try. Because you're remembering that and wishing that just maybe you hadn't pretended not to see how he felt about you. That maybe you thought about it more before he dated Jade and you disastrously asked Rose out only to be told that she would never see you that way. And that maybe, before his feelings for you fizzled away, you considered why you kept asking Rose out even though she reminded you time and time again that she was, and always will be, into girls.

You massage your cheek with your knuckles, then pick up your phone from where you left it on your nightstand and open up pesterchum.

EB: hey rose?

She responds immediately and you think she probably knew Dave was over here and that you would want to talk to her. She always seems to know.

TT: Yes John? 

EB: can I ask you something kind of weird? 

TT: Ask away. 

EB: how did you know you were gay?

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this fic right after going to homecoming as a junior which means it's been sitting half-finished for about a year and a half. It feels really good to come back to an old project like this and finish it up. No promises, but I'm considering writing a bit more in this universe, as I do kind of know what their lives would be like going forward. 
> 
> I kind of have a thing for writing out of order and filling in bits of backstory in a sort of retroactive way, so I hope it wasn't too confusing figuring out what was going on. 
> 
> Anyway hoped you liked it, even if it didn't end the way you were expecting it to. :)


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